Bark Properly

I am not a Dr Doolittle type. I don't talk to animals any more than I am likely to talk to trees or rocks. I must admit that I roll my eyes in disbelief when I hear grown humans talking to and about their animals. 'Who's Mummy's good boy then?' 'Give Mummy (or Daddy) a kiss.' Look at my little Arthur. Isn't he just so beautiful?' If I called my friend a bitch, she would be offended but she says to a dog, 'Come to Mummy.' Just what is a dog's mother called?

So, I couldn't believe my ears when I heard myself yell to the dog next door. 'Bark properly, you stupid animal!' When there is nobody at home, the dog barks - soft, pause, loud, short pause, short woof, over and over. There is only so much a neighbor can endure on a sleepless night!                woof .....WOOF ..oo.....woof .....WOOF ..oo

Not only that, I am talking to ants. I have a constant stream of them in my kitchen. I can watch for hours as they run up and down the wall.There seem to be protocols they all observe. Those going up, pause and seem to touch those who are going down. It seems a task is assigned to a certain number of ants. There might be a dozen carrying a crumb up the wall. No more join them, though they may slip back and make negative progress over a long period of time. Others just scurry past and leave them to their effort. I often tell them that I admire their tenacity. However, if they gather on a plate waiting to be washed, I have no qualms about washing them down the plug hole with hot soapy water. I do extend my condolences, though, as I send them on their way.

I suppose we all respond to the enforced isolation of Coronavirus in different ways. For those who spend most or all of their year on the road, it may be particularly stressful. The internet is awash with memes.  I have taken a few onboard. I like the reminder given in: You are not stuck at home; you are safe at home. I have also embraced the fact that language influences our reactions. I tell myself that I am not isolated, I am enjoying solitude.

We are being brainwashed into thinking we should be busy and productive all the time we are confined to our homes. We are bombarded with suggestions for filling our time - classes, dance parties, exercise groups, movies, new hobbies. We have to go, go, go!

As Solo travellers, we know that it not true. While we travel, we are experts at doing nothing. We can sit by our motorhomes and watch clouds drifting by, listen to the call of birds, and dream of places to go and people to see. We know that doing nothing is often exactly what our souls and bodies need, and we do it well. We can do it just as well at home.

My recommendation to my fellow Solos is, don’t let the world, the media, your neighbours and friends convince you that have to be constantly active. Just remember that times of quiet and reflection also refresh the body and the soul. And besides, we have earned the right not to listen to other people, not to follow their suggestions and not to do even one thing that we don’t want to. So, go ahead. Do as much or as little as you feel like. Be slothful if that’s what you want – and call it communing with your inner self! That is being productive, in my book.

Just to stay in touch with those who are spending more time at home than they want to, I asked for ideas of how to fill the long days. I was bombarded with suggestions and am including some but, remember, these are only for those who feel compelled to do something. 

• ·         Put your camera onto video mode and take friends on a guided tour of your garden, or your pantry or your make-up cupboard.
• ·         Choose a theme and dress for the occasion each day.
• ·         Play Naughts and Crosses with your teddy bear or an imaginary friend. Don’t cheat.
• ·         Freeze your car keys into a block of ice so you are not tempted to go out. (Maybe freeze your snacks as well.)
• ·         Register with AA and WW in preparation for the end of isolation.
• ·         Clean the pockets of the driver’s door of your motorhome. If you find a box of matches, check the tread depth in your tyres. Make a collage from chocolate wrappers found there.
• ·         Take photos of the interior of your MH, print them out and display them around your house.
• ·         Take a list like this and add to it daily. When you get to 50 items, post it on Facebook.

I have cheated a bit and taken photos of what I might have done if I had been stirred to action.Don't believe everything you see - technology is a wonderful thing!

Dressing up or my normal persona?
Note the white wig

Registering for AA and WW
Note the ginger wig

Playing naughts and crosses with Teddy.
Note the grey wig

Arranging my hair products in optimistic anticipation
Note the absence of wig

Going Viral

I love the way people put a post or a picture on Facebook and ask others to share it so that it goes viral. This year, with Coronavirus spreading at an incredible rate through the world, the idea of anything going viral really concerns us.

Last six months have not been the most encouraging in my life. Since last September, I have been treated for a Non-Hodgkin Lymphoma. Because the chemotherapy sent my sugar levels into the stratosphere, I spent six days out of every 21 in hospital. Then, when I expected tests to show an all-clear, I had to have another month of radiotherapy. All the time I have felt and looked well so I am not complaining but the light at the end of the tunnel was the thought of getting into my little motorhome and setting our. I finished my treatments just in time for community lock-downs.

I was fortunate, I realise, to be still at home as Australia closed down.  Overseas travel was banned, international tourism was halted, homecoming residents were placed into quarantine, schools and most of the shops closed and state borders were closed. Phrases like social distancing and self-isolation became part of our lexicon. The previous political buzzword  'going forward' was replaced by 'on the other side of this situation.' As our Prime Minister and state Premiers gave press conferences ever day, we stayed at home. I believe our authorities reacted quickly to the situation as our infection and death rate, though serious, are minuscule in comparison to those in similar sized countries.

One of the very positive outcomes of this virus, though, is the increased emphasis on our neighbourhoods.  I love the fact that our particular suburb has a flourishing Facebook page where ideas and suggestions for staying sane are posted regularly. Another positive aspect is the increased interaction with our neighbours, even as we experience social distancing. People we have never met before give an encouraging wave as they pass on their evening walks. A banner has been put up in the park saying, 'Smiles are contagious too.'

Kids are using chalk to draw pictures and write encouraging messages on the driveways. We've been going on a Bear Hunt, looking for the teddy bears people are hiding in plain sight for passers-by. In terms of neighbourhood interaction, we have stepped back 50 years to the days where we knew our neighbours and offered help when it was needed.

Recently, street libraries were set up. There is one, just a little box on the fence, about 150 metres from my home. My other regular one (before social distancing) was in the local shopping centre. This week, I have gone on a brisk walk (my daily exercise) to the street library. There have been times when the only books there have been the ones I had returned. This week, I think everyone is reading! I took six books down and brought back 8. Tomorrow I will return another 5 from the van which I finished ages ago. I am fortunate that I read almost anything, except romance and fantasy (which are probably the same thing for me). I had so much choice today that I realise that I have neighbours with the same taste in books. There is also a tub of kids books, DVDs and games which seem to have a quick turnover as well. I hope, as a teacher and bookaholic, that this is a sign of a resurgence in reading, especially of tree-books as distinct from e-books. E-books are fine if you can't get the real thing but there is nothing like the feel of a book in your hands.

Another very positive outcome of the coronavirus has been the increased traffic on social media sites. I am on a few which I check almost daily where the emphasis seems to be on lifting our spirits with lots of jokes, stories and memes to balance out the grim news around us. Most of my Facebook sites are for travellers - the Solos Network, Solos Cruising Oz and similar. I used to check to see where my fellow travellers were, now I check to see how they are keeping themselves occupied in isolation. Such a dramatic change in a very short time!

I have also gone online with Toastmasters. One of my Pathways projects was all about online activities. I have this blog and others but was unsure how to fill the other projects. Now I am online with club meetings and meetings for specific purposes - daily impromptu sessions, regular educational presentations and wider multi-club meetings. I have learnt to run an online meeting, do a long multi-media presentation, and master many of the intricacies of communication from a distance. Much of this would be familiar to those whose work involves digital communication but for the average person like me, used to face-to-face interactions, this time at home has been a real learning experience. There is a bit of a down side here, though. Instead of slopping around in my pyjamas, I have to get dressed, put on make up, draw in the eyebrows lost through chemotherapy, decide on a wig or turban, and sit smiling in front of a screen.

Life has changed.  I am well aware that for many this will be a very stressful time and will put incredible pressure on family relationships especially where job-losses are included in the mix.  I know I am resilient enough to emerge 'on the other side' with more technical skills and knowledge and with my health and mental health intact. I am fortunate to have close family and caring friends to see me through.

Tagging Along

This time last year I was travelling though New South Wales. getting ready to join a Solos Tagalong though NSW and Queensland. This year we are confined to home as a result of the Coronavirus, Some one said we have need to look at our mindset and our vocabulary. Many of us have talked about being stuck at home. It was suggested that we should used the term, safe at home. Instead of travel, I am going to reminisce a bit about things from twelve months ago,

Easter was spent at Wagga Wagga at the Stone the Crows Festival, a week of fun and activities for the Over 50 group. This was my first Stone the Crows and it was great. As expected, there were quite a few travellers that I knew, including Solos. I committed myself to two activities for the week and then went to anything that took my fancy.

I am now the proud owner of a soprano ukulele and a book of instructions and songs. After four 90 minute lesson during the week, I can tune the device and hold it correctly. I am pretty confident with the C chord, A minor and F. Unfortunately even the easiest tunes seem to include G. I watch others playing and they seem to glide across the frets. Do matter how I try, my hands still look like  chooks' foots. At the end of a practice session, I have to twist my fingers back into some semblance of normalcy. I may still need a few lessons.  Then after all that work, I realised that because I am only playing chords, I am expected to sing to provide the melody. I will have to find a big group so that I can just move my mouth and pretend to sing, as I was asked to do in music lessons at school.

Last year, Easter was very late in the month of April and Anzac Day was included in the Stone the Crows festival. I don't usually buy T-shirts but I'm always on the look-out for a bargain. Last year's festival T-shirt featured both Stone the Crows and Anzac day - two for one! So, I had to get one. I now have a shirt that I can wear only one day a year - or two if I wear it on Remembrance day. I had intended to do that on the last Remembrance Day but I was in hospital. Now we have Anzac Day just around the corner - and we are in isolation for the Coronavirus, The closest I may get to showing it off, may be to post a photo here. It probably looks better on my lounge chair than on me, C'est la vie!

Happy Easter 2020!

Safe Travelling

I think it is interesting to look at role reversals. As parents it is our job to worry about our kids,even when they are no longer kids. Then, somewhere along the way, we find they are worrying about us.

I've been asked, 'Don't your kids worry about yo travelling alone?'  My answer is, 'No. My kids are reasonably intelligent. (They got their brains from their father. I still have mine.) They will have done a risk assessment. They know with 100% certainty that they will never see me on the evening news being winched from the side of a mountain by a helicopter, or rescued from the jaws of a great white shark. I'll never be seen staggering out of a desert or a rain forest after ten days of deprivation and starvation.'

Non travellers say, 'You are so brave. Don't you get scared being out there by yourself?'  They don't realise how busy life on the road is. I am a member of  the Campervan and Motorhome Club of Australia (CMCA), one person in a membership of 65,000, couples and singles. Many of them have joined a Solos Network with about 900 members, two-thirds of whom are women, mainly in the older age group. Obviously there are hundreds travelling alone who have not joined the Solos Network. It is a genuine network with access to all the resources of the CMCA and, as Solos, we have our own niche with clear lines of communication. We have a Solos facebook page, a Rally Facebook page with information about upcoming rallies. We have smaller chapters which meet regularly and, as an entire network, we have the opportunity to meet twice a year for rallies which provide information and, most particularly, a chance to meet for fun and fellowship. As well, our Tagalong page allows us to tag along with our members at no cost, either informally or in groups organised by our fellow members,

And this not the only group that caters for solo travellers. Rolling Solo is a group of about 3500 women, representing a wide range of ages and interests. Solos Travelling Oz have more than 3000 members, Glamper Girls have more than 3500. The list goes on. I would hazard a guess that, of about 80,00 travellers on the road at any one time, at least 10,000 are solo women. How could you be considered alone?

Yet, you can most certainly be alone if you want to be. There are plenty of places off the beaten track where you can stay, short or long term. You are really constrained only by the amount of water you carry and how you generate power. Travellers who are permanently on the road are more likely to settle for longer periods of time, to stop and offer Blaze Aid for weeks or months or to house sit for a while.

Travelling around on any day of the week, you will find a variety of stopping places. Some use caravan parks, though this is a very expensive option long term. However, there is now a network of caravan parks which provide budget overnight stays for self-contained vehicles. RV Friendly Towns entice travellers with free or cheap camping, in addition to showgrounds stays which can range from nothing (in Glen Innes and many other towns) to $30.  Roadside rest areas are popular and there is a great sense of camaraderie as people settle in for the night. Smaller vans like mine can park in suburban streets without being obvious. This is referred to as Stealth Camping, though it is perfectly legal and safe. In the CMCA we have Member Stopovers (MSO) where members open their property  short term to fellow members. There are also farm stays and groups such as YouCamp which provide quiet accommodation in a rural setting at various costs. And, best of all, family and friends often have a back yard or a driveway - and access to hot showers.

Being alone on the road is a personal choice. We are always aware of our safety and that of our fellow solos. Lis, who does safety seminars, said that more than 85% of assaults and murders take place in the home, usually perpetrated by a known assailant, The other danger group is the 15-30 year olds. Most of us are older than that, we are not in a family home, and we are alone. We are the safest people in Australia. Don't worry about us.

The Mad Woman in the Attic

While I was working in Newry, Northern Ireland, I spent a lot of time in the Republic. I loved the feel of Dublin itself. Grafton Street is interesting. I assume that some time in the past, a whole street of houses was removed as Grafton Street is wide - shops then 2 lanes of traffic, then a wide central area, two more lanes and more shops. In the central area, people sit around, drink coffee, buy flowers and admire the sculpture called Spirit of the Liffey, more commonly known as the Floozie in the Jacuzzi.

I was lounging around the area one day, revelling in the conversations drifting around me and loving the accents. Just up from me an elderly lady began to dance. She wore a floaty frock with a bit of lace petticoat dipping below the hem, high heeled sandals, white gloves and a flower in her fading hair. She had her arms up in classic dancing pose and, without a partner, waltzed to music only she could hear. Occasionally she bowed towards the street when someone tooted her. She acknowledged any applause and sometimes drew an unsuspecting child into her dance.  I was fascinated. She was totally engrossed in her activity, almost unconscious of her audience, and danced with a smile on her face as though she had been transported back to some magical occasion.

Ireland, I know, and England and Scotland too, really know how to 'do' eccentricity. There is no stigma to being different and no hesitation to flaunt that individuality. I sat there watching the dancer and thought how different it would be if I got up to dance in the Queen Street Mall in Brisbane. People would avoid my eye, I would be hustled away by some authoritarian figure explaining that I could fall and injure myself. I would probably feature in a quirky little bit on the evening news and my kids and grandkids would squirm with embarrassment.

About the time that I returned from working overseas, my daughter Krista and her husband Umar began discussing some sort of living arrangement for their poor decrepit mother. (I had foolishly sold my house before I left and now, five years later was out of a booming market.)They looked at houses that had granny flats and even talked about modifying the house. They could raise the roof and make an attic apartment for me. I think they considered that idea for a while and then stories of the mad woman in the attic began to lodge in their minds.

The mad woman in the attic features in literature, notably for me, in Jane Eyre.  There is something sinister, unnerving, terrifying but somehow hypnotic in the situation. It is a bit like going to a horror movie. You know what is going to happen, you partially cover your eyes, but know that you must watch every moment unfold. Similarly, the mad woman in the attic may suddenly escape or her cackling laughter may drift down the stairway. With one part of your mind, you want it to happen, while the other part is paralysed by the thought.

Some of that no doubt went through Krista's mind and she thought about her planned children and wondered what damage would ensue if she added a deranged mother into the family mix. Not that I was actually deranged then but anyone who contemplates dancing solo in the Queen Street Mall needs to be carefully watched.

To avoid the possibilities of the attic, eventually they built a lovely little self-contained cottage in the back yard - close enough to keep an eye on me, but far enough away to shelter innocent children. I guess they decided than a nutty nana or a crazy lady next door was a better proposition than a mad woman in the attic.

My cottage is tiny but has everything I need, mostly neatly stored in cupboards. It may not have the glamour of some homes and mansions and doesn't have the Gothic horror of Victorian era literature but it is just fine for this mad woman.

Following in the Fingerprints of Matilda Mitten

I come from a long line of women who wear mittens, rather than gloves (though the genealogy has not been positively confirmed). Surprisingly this is not a congenital issue but something that develops over time. The underlying cause may be inherited but the catalyst varies for each of us. We were all born completely normal. Something happened as we reached adulthood and became involved in work or hobbies that needed care and attention.

My great-great-aunt, Matilda Mitten was the first recorded with this syndrome.  From a modern perspective, we would say she was probably autistic. She was obsessively neat but seemed almost immune to pain.  One day she was working with her embroidery frame, sewing the tiniest, finest petit point. Somehow she managed to sew her fingers to the underside of her fabric. She admired the top side and realised that it would take many hours to unpick the stitches and do it again.  Because she really didn't feel much pain, she decided to just snip the threads between the fabric and her fingers.  The frame came free but her fingers remained stitched to each other. That didn't seem to be a real problem and she decided to leave it. However, her gloves no longer fitted so she designed and knitted what we now call mittens, named in her honour.

Bella the Book Binder was my great-grandmother's mother-in-law's foster child. That seems a fairly tenuous hereditary link but, like the others, she became a fully fledged mitten wearing ancestor. In those days the book binder was responsible for the finished product. She was given a thick text, an expensive cover and a very strong adhesive that was designed to hold the cover in place for many years. Unlike Matilda, Bella was not neat or particularly pernickety. With a particularly large and cumbersome book one day, she slopped glue onto the outside of the cover.  Committed to finishing the task, she steadfastly held the cover tight as the glue set. When she finally removed her hand, most of the leather came with it.  The palm of her hand was one big square of maroon leather.  No matter what she did, the leather stuck with her. She sliced between the fingers to allow for some movement but the bulk of the fabric meant she could no longer fit into her gloves, For the many months that it took for that layer of skin and expensive material to grow out, she became and remained a wearer of mittens.

A sadder case was that of Maudie the Machinist, known more for her stoicism than her co-ordination. Maudie was employed in a factory making parachutes during the war. One fateful day as Maud fed the voluminous silk fabric through the automated machines, two of her fingers were run over by her machine. As she struggled to free herself, she was being pulled inexorably towards the next machine. There was nothing she could do but call for the supervisor. A quick snip from a bolt cutter, her hand was free, her severed fingers moving on through the process - with perhaps an unwelcome shock for some poor airman in the near future. Meanwhile, to staunch the bleed, she pressed the two remaining fingers into the bleeding sockets and bound them tightly. When she finally had the courage to remove the bandages and check her handiwork, she found that the two fingers had fused into the ravages of the lost fingers. Instead of the two digits she expected to see, she had a thumb accompanied by two arcs of finger. Mittens were the easiest solution!

Enter the next generation, me. I have managed to survive more than seven decades of ineptitude.  My fingers have been cut, stitched and stapled innumerable times. Unlike some of my esteemed ancestors, I was born clumsy - but obviously fairly inventive, to have survived so long. Let me tell you about my recent confrontation with a tube of Super Glue.  I was busily decorating a hat for the upcoming rally where the welcome dinner will have a Crazy Hat theme. While I was in Queanbean, my creative and practical host, Michelle, did the hand sewing on my creation.  Without spoiling the surprise and tipping off the judges, all I had to do was add the eyes. A good dob of glue, set the google eyes in place, then hold them somehow till the glue dried.  I couldn't quite reach them with pegs, the hat was too bulky to have a weight put on it so, you guessed it, I held them in place. Without going into all the gory details, I have to admit that I have followed in the family fingerprints and become a card -carrying member of the family Mitten Society.

A Marie Celeste Library

                                 
It is eerie to walk into a library that seems devoid of life. It’s like finding the Marie Celeste whole and entire and completely deserted. The sign on the door said, ‘Open’, some lights were on, the computers were plugged in – and there was not a soul in sight.

I settled myself with my computer and began work on some emails.  A couple of people wandered in, returned books, used the self-checkout desk and disappeared.  After a while, I felt like an intruder and decided that I had to find someone official.  The library shared the same entrance with the Town Council office so I went in there.  A receptionist assured me that I was free to use the library which was apparently open each day but not always staffed.  I did a couple more hours work, quite uninterrupted, reflecting on the comfort of small-town trust.

This week I have spent quite some time in local libraries, working on the Solos website updates which is a long process, reliant on a webmaster who seems to have a real life somewhere and signs on at about 5am for a while. As I have often just fallen into a deep sleep at that time of the night/morning, I don’t see his work until after about 10am, work on it during the day and know he will see it next morning. Our contact is, at best, peripheral, not the optimum working conditions. I do feel any occasional moment of sympathy for the poor webmaster who probably goes through this same process every two years with a new committee.

It is an interesting process working on documents that have been written by someone else, in this case several someones. There is such a variety of styles. I don’t know much about the site but I am trying to rework the pages bit by bit to reflect both the changing approach of the new committee and my own style of expression. I have learnt over time how to write for different audiences. The website is, I hope, clear and crisp and simple.

Today I am miles from a library, free camping at Wallace Lake. It is a lovely spot with quite a lot of campervans, tents and caravans right around the lake. Last night it pelted down most of the night and quite a few packed up and left. Today, there was no rain but a 30kmh wind across the lake dropped the temperature dramatically. An overnight low of 12 degrees is forecast. And the wind hasn’t stopped.  It is blowing a gale.  I’m glad I don’t have to step outside.